Rough Night
by Momma-Ran
Summary: Christophe is having a rough night and Gregory doesn't make it any better.


My body hurts but its a pain that's in the back of my mind. Survival is what I need to focus on. Later I'll probably break down. But now I have to keep walking.

The large black duffel bag slung over my shoulder is rubbing up against the bite wound painfully. Its not a light bag in spite of its contents being paper. I carry it without complaint down the street. There's no way I'm going to give this up after all the trouble I went to get it. Most people think I'm just some runaway kid so they don't bother me. They can't see my wounds because my dirty, torn clothes are mostly covering them. There's something dripping down my leg and I hope its blood. The alternative is something my mind refuses to let me think about. Later, I promise myself.

When I see a gas station I pause in front of it. I haven't smoked since I was eight years old; ten years ago. Right now I need something to calm down so I go inside. Even though I'm the picture of calm on the outside I'm about to break on the inside. Once I get home it will be okay. Everything will be fine when I get home. I buy a pack of Camels and a lighter with some change in my pocket. The man at the counter is looking at me weird. My eyes are dead when I glance up at him and he hurries to give me my stuff.

I don't think I have enough change left over to take the bus but I go to the bus stop anyways. As I sit I hang onto my money in a death grip. My body protests sitting and screams at me. I blink back tears. I've been through a lot but this pretty much takes the cake. When the bus comes I find out that I am short of change and I'm very rudely told to get the fuck off the bus.

Guess I'm walking home. Its only a few miles. I think. On the way I pass a dollar store and go in. By now whatever is dripping down my leg so instantly has soaked into my sock and is working its way down my boot to pool around my foot. Its warm and slow and I hate to think of what it could be. At the dollar store I buy a ton of gauze and rubbing alcohol.

When I glance down at my leg I'm relieved to see its blood staining my jeans. No one else has noticed yet so I make it out of the dollar store without someone calling the cops or an ambulance.

Now my load is heavier but I barely notice. Slowly my body has started to go numb. The throbbing, stinging, burning of my wounds are in the very back of my mind. There isn't anything in front. Just sweet quiet, nothing.

I let myself into the gated community that is my apartment building. Up the stairs I trudge to the apartment I share with my boyfriend. Outside the door of our apartment I stand staring at the tiny blood puddle that is forming around my right foot. From inside I hear something scream indistinguishable words. I've always hated metal music.

I unlock my door and swing it open. The noise is louder now. I walk in and shut the door behind me. As I walk across the carpet to the bathroom I leave a trail of blood. Stopping inside the doorway to the bedroom I see my boyfriend fucking someone I don't know in our bed. Neither of them even looks up and I doubt they know I'm here.

Just another thing to cry about later. I'm not even supposed to be here tonight; I told Gregory I was working a double overnight shift. That was more or less a lie.

For now I go into the bathroom and set down the stuff I got from the dollar store. Then I go into our bedroom, still carrying the duffel bag, and out the sliding glass door to the balcony. They don't even glance at me until I slam the door shut. We stare at each other through the glass and Gregory looks guilty as hell. I don't care. There's still a steel barrier between me and emotions at the moment.

I turn away to lean on the edge of the railing. With shaking hands I light up. Its like smoothing out a crumpled piece of paper; and I'm the paper.

If I wanted to I could leave Gregory and this tiny apartment forever. The means are digging into my shoulder. My eyes slide over to look at Gregory who is talking rapidly to his little whore and puling on boxers and jeans. As much as I hate him I can't leave him because I love him. I know how I get without him and its nothing good.

A few minutes later I hear our door close. After that Gregory comes out onto the balcony with me. I don't say anything. His feelings are nearly tangible. He likes to think that he's a great boyfriend and would never do anything to hurt me.

Normally I would have killed that bitch but now I just watch the younger pretty boy scamper away, glancing up at me on the balcony every few steps until he's out of sight. He looks worried because he knows I hate people touching Gregory and is wondering why he's getting off so easily.

"Christophe," Gregory starts in his _I'm __going __to __apologize_ voice as he turns on the light out here. Then he really sees me. His expression tells me I look worse than I thought. "What happened?"

I ignore him and take another drag. He gets closer to me and is going to embrace me but I manage to growl out, "Don't touch me." And he stops. I can tell he wants to get close to me and make it all go away but I don't want to be touched. My skin crawls at the thought.

I'm hanging on by threads. One tug and I'll break. My cigarette is gone so I ignore him to go back into the apartment and into the bathroom. He follows me, still asking questions. I set the duffel bag down in the bathtub so he can't get at it.

Then I start peeling off my clothes. Some of my blood has dried so I literally do have to peel my clothes from my skin. My body shakes as I pull off each layer and drop them onto the floor. Gregory has been shocked into silence. He hasn't seen me like this since La Resistance, and even then it wasn't as bad.

When I get to my boxers I hesitate. I don't want to be naked. Fear threatens to choke me but I push it down with my boxers. Gregory stares at me with wide eyes. He takes in the hand-shaped bruises and the scratches on my back and butt. My mind doesn't let me think about what conclusion he's jumped to.

I stand hunched over naked because it hurts more to stand up straight. My entire body won't stop shaking and the longer Gregory looks at me the tighter my throat gets.

This wasn't my plan. The plan had been to meet up with some people and steal the few million they stole. I hadn't accounted for the fight to break out between them. Somehow all but one ended up dead and he...My mind skips over this part. Then he let the dogs loose to kill me.

I hate dogs.

I bandage myself up because I don't want anyone to touch me. Especially not when they reek of sex like Gregory. My neck, my torso, my arms, my legs. Every bite gets cleaned and bandaged. I stumble a few times, drop the roll of bandages, spill the rubbing alcohol, but I don't let Gregory help me.

"I guess I'm sorry wouldn't mean anything?" I don't even justify that with a glance in his direction. Later, maybe, if I get over this, I'll go back to being the cuddly boyfriend he says he loves. Its hard to believe in love when your boyfriend keeps fucking other people. But whatever; the domestic problems aren't even worth thinking about.

Seeing that its getting him no where, Gregory changes the subject. "Whats in the bag?" I don't answer him verbally but my mind is saying _nothing __for __you_. Gregory won't get a cent of the ten million dollars I stole.

Predictably the blonde gets mad at me for not speaking. "Why do I even bother when you won't talk to me?" Making everything about him. Its always fucking about him.

I snap.

I stand up and march over to him. He's taller than me so I have to look up at him. "I 'ave been raped, azzacked by dogs, and 'ad zo walk forzee miles zonight only zo find mon boyfriend fucking someone else een our bed. I've 'ad a rough night. _Do __nut _make zis about you."

Even though I didn't want to leave him, I grab my duffel bag and shove past him. I leave without the rest of my stuff. When he isn't here I'll come back to get it. Gregory is calling my name but I'm already gone. Gone, gone, gone, and so very _angry_.

I walk to my apartment ten miles away, the one Gregory doesn't know about. Its the one I got when I started working because I figured that Gregory and I wouldn't work and wanted something to fall back on when the shit hit the fan. Its a two bedroom, bigger and nicer than his, for about the same price as his.

When I walk in the door my cat greets me. Like I said, I'm not a dog person. But I do need company so I bought a kitten. He's now a plump black cat who loves to snuggle up to me. In between work and Gregory I've been coming here to take care of him. "'Ey." I greet him. "I 'ope you 'ave 'ad a betaire night zan moi."


End file.
